Any Other Way
by Kitkat3011
Summary: James doesn't know many things but there's a lot he does know and there's way more he's not ready to admit yet. Just a little thing I wanted to write from James perspective no action just monologuing


James doesn't know the first time he noticed Erin's smile.

It wasn't the first day they met, he knows that for certain because at that point Derry was just so loud. It seemed to James, who found himself abandoned in this strange corner of Earth, that even the colours screamed brighter than they did in England. Not for some inexplicable sense of beauty, the whole place was just as loud as the people in it. So he could say for certain on that first day, where he found himself busting for the loo and trapped in detention in this mad place, he isn't notice Erin's smile.

But after a while, he found himself admiring that smile a bit more than he should. Once the place relatively calmed for James only one thing in particular stuck out that appeared even brighter and louder than Derry itself: Erin Quinn's smile. He doesn't know exactly what made him notice it and he couldn't pinpoint the beginning but he does know that once it began it never seemed to stop.

James doesn't know the first time he started trying to make her laugh.

Ever since he'd known her, James loved her laugh. When she truly, properly laughed and didn't care about seeming deep or wise or trying to write poetry that even he had to admit, was a little bit boring. That laugh, to James, was the purest thing in this place and he truly believed it could stop the troubles if given half the chance. More often than not when he made a joke it was in an attempt to make Erin laugh. Now, yes the purpose of a joke is of course to make those around you laugh but sometimes, in a completely platonic way you really want to see one friend scrunch their face up and bend over giggling over something you said more than other friends.

Completely platonically.

James doesn't know the first time he watched her fix her hair.

The way she'd twist it around her finger in concentration absentmindedly was adorable to James and how she brushed it behind her ears, each move unplanned. Not calculated in anyway but somehow completely bewitching (to some but not him he would assure himself). Soon enough he caught himself letting his gaze linger on her neck when she swept it to one side for longer than a friend was meant to.

James does know the first time he daydreamed about her.

It was in a science lesson and he was sat with Orla on a different table to Erin, but she kept turning around to flash that award winning smile, at least James would give it all the awards it deserved. He tried to ignore the fact that David Donnelly was sat on his table too and the fact that he might be playing a part in Erin's continued turning. Instead he focused on how the mid-afternoon sun turned her hair that much brighter and soon enough was in a world of his own creation where Erin smiled purely for him. When he ignored Mr O'Connell for the third time he tried not to turn a fiery red that only can be described as tomato especially when he asked "What was so interesting on Miss Quinn's back?"

For a while after that James pointedly ignored the fact that in this wonderful if short daydream he had kissed Erin because that's not what friends do.

James painfully remembers the first time Erin described him as her brother.

After another all night revision session, Granda Joe had a few more comments to make on the possibility of James being a rapist- James was more than happy to keep his thoughts to himself about what he'd like to do (consensually) with his granddaughter- but rather than the usual tirade of gay comments, James was instead greeted with a slap in the face "Ach Granda James is like my brother that's never gonna happen". Everyone else seemed satisfied with that outcome, like it had been tied up with a neat little bow and went back to watching 'Murder she wrote'. James however could still hear the words ringing in his ears and if he's really quiet even now he can still hear them echoing.

Surely it shouldn't bother him that much? He viewed all the girls as sisters at this point- nothing more.

James desperately tries to remember the time Erin helped him home.

Michelle had dragged them to yet another party where she drank too much and ended up passed out on the couch with whichever poor lad she'd latched herself onto for the night, tangled up in a mess of limbs and vodka bottles. James hadn't focused on the slightly shorter skirt Erin wore that night as he had to remind himself often you definitely should not think of a surrogate sister like _that_. However he found himself following in his cousins footsteps that evening watching on, drink firmly grasped in hand, as David Donnelly whispered something in Erin's ear and wrapped a grabby paw around her waist. Swig after swig he'd driven himself into the ground, trying to muster the courage to interrupt. After finally building it up James stood with the confidence of a man willing to admit everything but fell with the grace of giraffe on roller-skates, right at Erin's feet. She'd shouted at him at first, a mixture of concern and anger that if bottled would have to be called 'Erin' since only she seemed to balance it so perfectly. James is certain she blew off David for him despite that part getting a little fuzzy. He can still feel the cool sting of the night air sobering him up as Erin guided him home, his own personal star in the night sky. He can only vaguely remember the feel of her tiny body holding him up for the long way home and he can barely remember what she said to him as they walked.

James knows all to well the look of jealousy and the wave of embarrassment that soon follows it.

Sat in the Quinn's kitchen, that at this point feels like a home away from home, he couldn't help but snap after the endless tirade of comments about how much of a 'ride' John Paul is. He can still see all the slack jaws that must be hurting from hitting the floor after his sudden outburst,

"Well if he actually liked you Erin he'd be here now wouldn't he, but he's not he's out poking a model, so there's no use going on about it."  
Erin had welled up then and had fled the scene before anyone was able to see the first tear fall. Orla and Sarah soon became oblivious and had entered into a whole new conversation about wether Chinese takeaways import the ingredients from China directly whilst Clare had immediately followed a distraught Erin upstairs.

Before James was able to apologise and put his head in his hands he felt Michelle's badly manicured hand swipe him across the back of the head in a sharp slap that for once, James agreed he deserved.

"What are you playing at Dicko? You wanna get your attitude in order." Michelle had hissed before heading up to see Erin herself.

James was left then with Erin's entire biological family and he doesn't know what would be worse: the angry insults and demands for apologies he was expecting or the pitying looks they all gave him instead.

Ma Mary patted him on the shoulder like they all knew a big secret and James was afraid to admit that he probably knew it too.

James can't do anything but think about Erin in his jacket.

Walking home late on a Friday back to Erin's for a sleepover, they'd been walking together behind a singing Michelle, a panicked Clare and a deranged Oral chasing fireflies that no one else could actually see. Her arms were bare because she'd refused the coat after Mary told her to wear one and had instantly regretted it halfway out the door. James couldn't miss the little shiver she gave and almost on autopilot he was shrugging off his denim jacket and handing it to her. She'd said no of course, at first, that she couldn't possibly accept but James insisted and said "Well we are both going to get cold if you don't take it because I'm not putting it back on." She took it with a small smile, linking their arms and pointed up to the night sky.

"Doesn't it look beautiful tonight?"

"Yeah beautiful."

James is afraid to admit what exactly he was calling beautiful.

When they got back to the Quinn house, James was expecting his denim jacket back but was half amused, half secretly pleased to find that Erin wasn't giving it back just yet. He doesn't know if this was a choice or she simply forgot but he couldn't find the words to complain. They were all exhausted and a little tipsy, some more than others- Michelle- so the weak parade marched up the stairs and collapsed in Erin's room like they'd done countless times before. None of them bothered to change and Erin didn't even take the jacket off she simply fell asleep curled up into the fur around it's collar.

James had to fight against the massive grin threatening to engulf his face as she nuzzled further into the collar and a smile crept across her mouth even in her comatose state.

He tried not to be intoxicated by the scent of his jacket after she gave it back. It was a mix of his own cologne and her perfume and natural scent lingering from a night of blissful sleep that made him wonder if they were together all the time, would everything smell like this?

James finally admitted he was lying.

Every time Michelle glared at him after he was caught in the underhanded act of staring, he would lie. Come up with an excuse- a plausible story. Even when she pushed it further, ever the interrogator, he usually could never bring himself to answer.

"God dickweed, you are such a weird perv!"

"Uh no I'm not Michelle." He said it with a scoff hoping that would be enough to get her to drop it.

"Do you do anything but stare? And at Erin for Christs sake! Have you ever considered glasses or is weirdly gawking an English thing?" Michelle loved teasing him, sometimes he thought it was because she didn't know how to show affection any other way, other times he could sense the masked venom from underneath her words. Usually when they had this conversation he'd clam up and find an excuse to escape but when it finally caught up to him he had no exit strategy.

"Oh my God, do you fancy Erin?" Her mouth had dropped open into a small 'o' that was followed by an increasingly louder snicker "No way, you wanna ride Erin?" In a state of panic James forgot the number one rule: deny everything.

Instead he defaulted to the next best thing, clamping a hand across Michelle's mouth and pleading with her for silence in effect revealing that, yes he did really want to ride Erin Quinn.

The part he didn't mention was it was harder admitting it to himself than a half smug half disgusted Michelle.

James called that strike one.

Strike two was Ma Mary.

James always had the sense that she knew more than she was letting on, truly omniscient. Mary always knew what was going on, especially under her own roof where no one could hide. Like Erin said- she's a bloodhound. James assumed that him slathering his butter onto the plate rather than the toast was what finally gave him away, he had been totally mesmerised by a story Erin was telling about her and Orla when they were "wee" and had fallen under a trance so deep he missed the bread entirely. Mary had always had a soft spot for him which was solidified after he complimented her hat and sealed when he took Erin to Prom, so she didn't say anything. She simply cleared her throat behind him shocking him back to reality and a buttery plate (which he of course stayed behind to properly wash). That was when she managed to corner him however. The girls, ever so thoughtfully, had gone straight to school with Michelle simply barking "Catch up dicko!" Half way out the door. That was Mary's opportunity to pounce.

"James, you know if you like a girl you should always just tell her, I know Erin, just for example, always loves being told someone fancies her," it was said so casually like there was no hidden meaning but when James turned to face Mrs Quinn and attempt to get himself out of this a bit more successfully than he did with Michelle, the look in her eyes silenced him. There was no lying to Mary.

She ended up enveloping him into a bear hug that made him miss his own mother, despite never receiving this kind of hug from her anyway, and he noticed an extra bit of bacon or sausage on his breakfast plate every time they popped round.

Overall strike two was more of a win.

That was until strike three, or doomsday has James had come to know it.

Granda Joe was a scary man. He had always been surrounded by women: his wife, two daughters and three granddaughters. That's why he suited the role of protector so well and usually James respected him for it, he'd do anything for his Derry girls and he knows Joe would too.

That was until he got the "talk". Which from the pained look in Gerry's eyes he had too.

"Now that useless shite won't say anything to ya, but I will- if I catch you," he thrust a finger into James chest, "Eyeing up my granddaughter again, I'll have your head on a spike ya English prick, am I clear?" Terrified James was only able to give a meek yes sir before bolting for the door, wondering what the hell he'd signed up for when he fell for Erin Quinn.

The next day Gerry slipped him a chocolate from his favourite box with a wink and a smile and a "Welcome to the club son."

James may have avoided the Quinn house for a bit longer than he should have after that.

James does know that he fancies Erin Quinn.

It took him a while to reach the conclusion and he's still not ready to tell her, but deep down James Maguire knows he'd go to the ends of the earth for a small, blonde, bossy Derry girl and he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
